Home
by ILoVeWicked
Summary: Violet goes through life with her child. Song-fic/One-shot to Scott Alan's "Home". Rating to be safe. My first Private Practice fic! Hope you enjoy!


**Disclaimer: I do not own Private Practice or "Home". Oh drat.**

**Home**

**Hey, everyone! I'm so excited to finally put something up on the Private Practice section, which has been something I had been planning to do for a long time because the show is awesome, but time completely slipped away from me. I went through a slight obsession with Scott Alan's music (which is brilliant, to say the least), and I had found this song sung by Shoshana Bean (who is also amazing). I loved the song for a really long time, and then this whole Violet-pregnancy fiasco came up on the show (now the question on my mind is not really Sheldon or Pete [But seriously, Pete would be super]...it's whether or not Shonda Rhimes will prevent another person from having a baby on her shows...hmm) and I figured it fit perfectly with the song, so I'd write a one-shot about it. I apologize for it's lengthy-ness, but I wanted to make a good first impression on a new fandom and got a little carried away :D So I hope you enjoy and review! Thanks so much!**

**-ILoVeWicked**

**PS- Brennan is named after 'Brenneman' as in 'Amy Brenneman'. I tend to make refererences with baby names, just to let you know ;)  
PSS- Who else is stoked for Idina Menzel's guest appearance on PP? I know I am!!!**

**_______________________________________________________________________________________**

_Look at what I'm given  
This beautiful creation  
Sweet intoxication  
Something pure in my life_

At first, I was going to run away without telling a single soul where I was going. But, being myself, I naturally tossed and turned over that decision and eventually settled on taking a very long vacation. I would touch monkeys and sleep in hammocks to my heart's desire without having to worry about anyone else. No Cooper, no Charlotte, no SWAT guy even…just me, the monkeys and the Bug would have been swell.

And then I cracked; I told the world, and it felt good. With the exception of the possible fathers, people didn't yell and me or judge me. We all seemed to take this pregnancy one baby step at a time, just the way I needed it to be.

If someone had asked me a year ago, Violet, do you ever want to have children, the answer would have quickly and simply been no, or never, or when the time is right. But when Addison Montgomery placed that six pound, three ounce, eleven inch baby boy in my arms, the timing couldn't have been more perfect.

At three minutes old, my son already had my blue eyes, my unruly brown hair, and his father's energy. The look on his face was of pure innocence. No crying or screaming involved. He just kind of stared up at me in curiosity. In fact, I was the one doing the crying. Hot tears of joy rolled down my face uncontrollably. He had no idea that he was already so much more than just an innocent baby. With all the crap the world had thrown at me lately, between Pete and Sheldon and work and life in general, having a baby was the _last _thing on my mind. I was certain that it would only make matters worse. That was up until I actually was able to _see _him, to meet him, to understand just how much he meant to me, when I realized that this baby was just the pivoting point I needed to pick my life back up.

_Look at all these changes  
And the light now shines within me  
And you'll be mine completely  
There'll be no darkness left to view_

Sure, it was mind-boggling. Being a mother was just something I had to grow into. At least, that's what I kept telling myself the whole pregnancy, and what everyone kept telling me. I didn't expect to grow into things so fast. My expectations had been extremely altered. One look at this baby and I knew that the two of us were a special team.

"Do you have a name for him?" Addison asked, startling me from my doped up state of mind. I took a moment to study my son's face before whispering out his name. I felt Cooper give my shoulder an agreeing squeeze. He had been the one to pick the name out in the first place. I had always liked it, and I figured that this would be my only time to get to use it.

"Brennan."

Addison continued with her normal work, and Cooper went off to share the news with the others, which allowed me some time alone with my family. I ran a hand over his smooth, red cheek and broke out into a smile.

"Hey, Honey," I whispered happily, yet hoarsely. "I'm your mom." Where the sudden perk of happiness came from, I had no idea. I had just spent the last nine hours screaming and pushing and looking like a piece of crap in front of my friends, and I was far from happy. I hadn't been happy in years.

But Brennan brought the light that had been turned off for so long inside of me back. Somehow, knowing that I was responsible for giving this kid everything he needed wasn't so intimidating or horrifying anymore.

From that moment on, I promised myself that I would no longer let the hardships of life affect my son and I. I would protect him from getting hurt for as long as I could before he grew up and started looking after his own kids. It was only fair. He made my life better. He deserved the same from his mother.

"And I love you so, so much."

_I never knew this form of love existed  
Yet deep inside of me is where it all began_

As children, we are read fairy tales of magical kingdoms and handsome princes to help us sleep with peaceful, happy dreams. I remember my own mother putting me to sleep with lavish tales of _Cinderella _and _The Little Mermaid. _I used to love the fables so much, I could recite them word from word out of my book of fairy tales, a skill that would later become my photographic memory. As an adult, the little bits and details of those fantasies had escaped my keen knowledge of the past. But I never forgot about the large, distinct parts that stood out in every single fairy tale.

My parents had gotten a divorce when I was five years old. At that time, in a world of yelling parental figures and cruel lawyers, I found salvation in the only things that made sense. My stories. The reoccurring theme portrayed in each fairy tale had to do with a prince coming to rescue the damsel in distress at the end. I couldn't help but swoon over the thought of my own prince, blade at hand, rescuing me from the horrible conflicts of life I had to face so early. The dream began fading away as I grew older, that is, until my mother remarried. My step-father made her so happy. For once, I saw my mother smile. I never let go of the prince dream from then on.

_That _was the only kind of love I had thought was out there: the love between a couple.

_This _particular kind of love was totally different, and unexpected. _This _kind of love was the kind that swallowed you whole and contorted your life into ways unimaginably spectacular. _This _kind of love was the kind that made you smile until your lips ached from the constant tugging of muscles. _This _kind of love was the kind of love that made your eyes well up with tears whenever you saw your son blink his eyes, or as he grew older, say "Mommy". I had never had even the slightest inkling that the kind of love between mother and child could be so intoxicating, so joyous. The only resource I had before were the cuddly relationships between the new mothers who came through the practice. I had no idea that the cuddly had so much more depth to it.

It was when Brennan was twelve when I first thought of the very beginning and laughed about it. Crying into a towel, considering abortion for the third time, seeing the first ultrasound image of my son Dell brought up for me, telling the guys, taking the paternity test, and all of the other little events throughout that whirlwind of a pregnancy made me begin to think that in some ways, I had created my own little fairy tale. So my prince had come…just…not like I had expected to. I wasn't swept off my feet by some valiant stranger in tights with a sword and carried off by horse to become a princess.

"Ugh, my God, this is _so _frustrating!" Brennan groaned as he threw down his pencil and buried his head in his hands. I was standing at his doorway, about to let him know that dinner was ready, when he looked up at me with frustration and asked if I could help him with his Algebra homework, which was not my strong suit.

But when I sat down on the floor beside my son to help him with his advanced algebra homework, I knew that I was going to live happily ever after. Prince or no prince, there would always be one special man in my life.

_So hold me in your heart  
Is your love mine forever  
When you lay inside my arms  
I'll protect you for always  
Never feel alone  
For I'll always be with you  
A home is where the heart is meant to be  
You'll always have a home inside of me_

Brennan was seven years old when he broke the vase my step-mother had gotten me for Christmas so many years ago. I frankly had never cared for the vase (or my step-mother Adele, for that matter) and Brennan breaking it, despite the fact that he had been playing baseball in the house, was a legitimate excuse for getting rid of that cheap, ugly thing. He was a kid, and as a therapist who dealt with kids most of her life, I knew that kids were kids. People made mistakes.

And besides, even if I was angry, I couldn't bring myself to yell at my baby. I knew the next time my father and his new bride came over, she would be displeased with the fact that her hand-me-down gift had shattered, and I was willing to take the blame if it meant protecting Brennan.

But Brennan wouldn't leave the matter at that. Traces of his father showed in his persistence as he sobbed and apologized constantly, even though I had told him calmly over and over that he was not in trouble.

"Honestly, Buddy," I persisted as I swept up the broken shards of ceramics onto a dustpan. "It's okay. I'm no where near mad at you. I hated that old vase anyway." Brennan sniffled and shook his head.

"No, it's not!" he screamed back. "I'm such a bad boy! I broke your vase, and I was being irresponsible! You don't deserve me!" He sobbed some more.

Immediately, my arms shot out and I scooped him up into my lap. I shushed him soothingly and ran my hand through his brown locks as I rocked him in my arms. Finally, I grabbed his shoulders and held him an arm's length away from me.

"Listen," I told him, my voice soft yet firm. "Don't you _ever _think that you're not good enough for me. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and nothing you could do would ever change that, you hear me? You could blow up the world and I'd still love you more than anything, Brennan."

Unexpectedly, wordlessly, he wrapped his tiny arms around my waist and flopped his teary face against my chest in an overpowering hug. Even I had to shed a tear at that.

_And we will walk this road together  
I'll shelter you from burdens  
Just lean your weight on me_

"Pfft."

I first stuck up for Brennan when he was just a week old. I was getting along as best as a single mother could the first week. I wasn't the world's greatest mom, but I sure wasn't the worst.

I was sharing my lunch break with my special man when Charlotte King, Cooper's now-wife, passed by my door and snorted. And it wasn't an 'I just thought of something funny that happened earlier' snort, it was an insult towards me and my son snort. Now, I had been called some pretty mean names and had been abused in more than one way in my thirty-eight years of existence, so I had grown a pretty hard shell. At the time, I didn't know why Charlotte's comment got me so riled.

Now I know why.

_Ands storms may bridge the distance_  
_You will always have a home  
__Right here inside my arms  
There's a love waiting just for you_

I stormed out of my office, shoved Brennan into the arms of the first person I saw (who just so happened to be Dell…naturally the most curious one), and stomped right up behind Charlotte.

I'm not going to lie: everything about that woman scared me. She was at least a foot taller than me, she was far prettier, she was able to get anyone to back down just with a glare…heck, even her accent scared me.

But what I loathed most—and feared most—was Charlotte's comfort in insulting people and making them feel small, namely me. I was well aware that I was the main reason for Charlotte and Coop's broken relationship at that time, and yes, I felt absolutely horrible about that, but that didn't stop Charlotte from judging me every time my name was mentioned. She didn't even give me a chance to clear things up with her. So naturally, I was holding grudges. The woman may have made my best friend feel whole and in love, but she made me feel like dirt. For the longest time, I had been holding my tongue back and taking the criticism just for Cooper. It was completely different with Brennan.

When she insulted my son, I drew the line. The love I had for my son overpowered my love for any best friend.

"Charlotte!"

I almost bolted off when she whirled around and glared at me with her squinty grey eyes, looking colder than ever. I swallowed hard as she approached me, our heights clashing as we stood inches away in the middle of the lobby. A foot away from the elevator, I had the choice to chicken out. But this was my son's defense I was dealing with. He surely couldn't do it, and any incapable child had a right to have their mother defend them from harm.

"Yes, Doctor Turner?" Charlotte seethed in her thick southern voice. My nervous tick broke loose and I smiled nervously. The corner of Charlotte's mouth twitched, and I could tell I had provoked her.

"I—I know you hate me, and I'm not too fond of you, but you make Cooper happy, and I have to respect you for that, because he's tough to please," I began, my words fumbling out at a mile a minute. Charlotte rolled her eyes, as if she pitied me. She suddenly looked bored. I could feel my fists clenching and unclenching with her every move.

"Your point, Doctor Turner?"

I felt myself grow hot and red. Nervous tick number two, blushing, had settled in. All that was left for me to do was stutter. "My…um, point is that y—you can't…you just c—can't…" Charlotte laughed sarcastically, catching the attention of several in the lobby.

"I can't just what, Doctor Turner?"

That's when I exploded. "You can't just judge a _child_, Charlotte! You can call me all the dirty names in the book, claim that I got pregnant and changed my entire life to get attention, you can even think that I'm still not over Cooper! Hate me all you want, I don't care! But you have no right to judge a baby, a week old baby who did nothing to harm you in any way. I've given you all the respect you deserve, and though you may not feel I deserve as much respect, as you have clearly exhibited, do me a small favor and find enough goodness in that black hole heart of yours to respect my son!"

Several gasps could be heard by people waiting in the lobby. Whether they were in shock that the mellow therapist had just flipped out at another doctor or that the other doctor had ridiculed a kid, I never figured out. I was too busy huffing and puffing at Charlotte while still managing to stand despite all the shaking in my shoes I was doing. I heard a low whistle escape Dell's lips.

That's when I realized that I had done the impossible. I made Charlotte King shut up.

_I never knew this form of love existed  
A world away from that I've ever known_

Charlotte's eye twitched, and I could tell she wanted to call me words that the mothers in the lobby would get up and leave over. We stared at each other for a long time: her heated glare against my meek, tired one. Finally, her sharp chin cocked upward and her golden, flawless hair swished as she turned and walked away.

Before the elevator doors closed to take my enemy down to the fourth floor, she mumbled, in a soft voice, "You must really love that kid."

_So hold me in your heart  
Is your love mine forever  
When you lay inside my arms  
I'll protect you for always  
Never feel alone  
For I'll always be with you  
A home is where the heart is meant to be  
You'll always have a home inside of me  
_

The first thing I did was grab Brennan, embarrassed that he had to see his mother freak out in front of him, and carry his tiny, warm body into my office. I plopped down on the couch, Brennan cradled in my arms, and started bawling. I didn't understand why _I _was the one crying. I had stood up to Charlotte King, and I had won.

But the insult towards my baby had hit me harder than I thought. I looked into his soft, puzzled blue eyes and hiccupped with another sob. I didn't understand how anyone, even Charlotte, could dislike this perfect miracle, or any baby for that matter. I felt the sudden connection to the mothers I had seen go through the clinic with babies that were born with deformities. People judging beautiful children without getting the chance to see them for them, it made me sick to my stomach.

I wiped a tear from under my eye with my free hand, still shaking with sobs, and whispered to the baby against my chest: "It's okay, Baby. She's never going to hurt you again. _No one's _ever going to hurt you again. Mommy's got you. Mommy loves you."

I continued whispering the same reassuring comments, more to myself than Brennan, even when I felt a hand on my own shoulder.

_No matter where the journey leads you  
If your path is some place new  
You'll always have a home in this heart of mine_

Brennan was twenty years old when he got into a fatal car accident, driving home from a wild college party, and had to be taken to the Intensive Care Unit of St. Ambrose Hospital. His friend had been driving while they were both intoxicated, and their car had hit an old woman head on at a stop light, the boys crashing into the windshield and killing the friend. The doctors said that his seatbelt, which I had strongly enforced in Brennan's younger years, had saved my son's life.

To my own surprise, I didn't cry when I first saw him, lying there, battered and bruised and looking at me for a dramatic sympathy shower. Instead, I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him.

"What were you thinking, Young Man?" I scolded, slamming my purse down on the floor and falling into the empty chair beside his bed. "You could have been killed tonight!" Brennan shifted uncomfortably in his bed and swallowed hard. He knew he was in trouble, I could see it in his face and I could tell he was willing to ham his story up to avoid that trouble. But it never worked when he was younger, why on earth he would think it would work at that moment confused me.

"Mom…" his voice was weak and raspy, and it made me want to stop right there and hug him. But I thought about party, and the things that could have happened, and I reminded myself that I couldn't just let him get away with everything because he was my kid like I had done so many times during my career as a mother.

"No, I don't want to hear it, Bren! I'm mad…no, I'm beyond mad, I'm _furious _with you! Driving while drunk was your first mistake…"

"Mom, it was Will…"

"I don't care if frickin' Santa Claus was drunk, Brennan! You should have known better! Now that woman and your friend are both dead and I…well, I…"

_Then_, I cried. I cried harder than the day I had stood up to Charlotte, I even cried harder than when I found out my son even existed. I laid my head down on the bed, sobbing into the sterile sheets, and felt Brennan's hand entwine with my own. I looked up at him, my beautiful, caring, intelligent baby boy. It seemed like only yesterday I had a panic attack over him. A fresh batch of tears cascaded down my mascara-covered face.

"And I could have lost you," I sobbed, my lungs aching as they pleaded for air. With my free hand, I gripped onto my side to look up at him and see that he was crying too.

"I wouldn't be able to bear it if I lost you," I whispered. "I'm sorry, I should have been better for you." Brennan stroked my fingers with his strong thumb as he shook his head.

"Don't say that. You and I both know that there's no such thing as a perfect mother, but you come pretty darn close. And besides, you'd be fine without me. You could take longer hours at the practice again, date again, you could see your friends again. Without me, you'd have a life, Mom."

I honestly could not determine whether or not he really felt that way about me or not. Just to let him know that he was wrong either way, I tightened my grip on his hand and whispered with affirmation, "_You _are my life, Buddy."

"I love you."

"I love you too. More than anything."

_So hold me in your heart  
Is your love mine forever  
When you lay inside my arms  
I'll protect you for always  
Never feel alone  
For I'll always be with you  
_

Prince Charming had been the one to father Brennan, had been the one to catch me when I fell to Charlotte when our son was a week old, he had been the one I handed my son to every weekend, and he had been the one to show up at the hospital to find me curled up on Brennan's hospital bed, our son laying in my arms.

"He's doing okay?" Pete asked. I jumped at his deep, rocky voice. I could tell he had been crying—in private, of course—too. I sat up, careful not to wake up Brennan, and nodded.

"He's alive, isn't he?" I replied, getting up and standing by his side. We were both silent, watching our son sleep peacefully. I felt a sudden de ja vu, remembering the day Brennan was born, both Pete and I standing by his bassinet and watching him sleep. We were both grateful for him then, and we were both grateful for him now.

"Could you imagine if he had been killed?" Pete asked, his voice rising in sudden anger. "I swear, if that Will kid had lived and our little guy died…" I reached out and grabbed Pete's arm tightly.

"Even if that were to happen, and believe me, it would kill me if it did, I don't think vengeance or hate would be the answer," I told him slowly. My therapist instincts had kicked in. Pete looked down at me and laughed. For him, violence was the only answer if someone were to hurt Brennan.

I owed it to Pete for not running away and insisting to be a part of our baby's life. He truly adored Brennan as much as I did. He had been the father figure Brennan needed. Pete taught Brennan all of the guy stuff I would never had been able to teach him, and he had become Brennan's role model, which I admired. I never did fall back in love with Pete Wilder, but being his partner in raising our son was something I would never regret.

"And what would the answer be, then, Vi?"

I never took my eyes off of Brennan as I answered slowly with, "I think the answer must simply be…love." Pete nodded slowly and followed my gaze to look at Brennan. A small grin crept across his face.

"As many stupid mistakes as he makes, I'm never going to stop loving that kid."

My head rest on his strong, broad shoulder and I agreed, "Me too, Pete, me too."

_Home is where the heart is meant to be  
You'll always have a home inside of me_


End file.
